


Kahòntsi Onekwenhsa

by KenrakenOkwaho



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, American Revolution, Angst, Assassin's Creed III, Assassins vs. Templars, Bad Writing, Caring Haytham, Character Death, ConHayth, F/M, Forgive Me, God - Freeform, Het and Slash, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, No Smut, Soulmates, What-If, potential
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KenrakenOkwaho/pseuds/KenrakenOkwaho
Summary: ...in this world they were both in the wrong place, at the wrong time.





	

The night is young, silver rays of moonlight percolate playfully through the clouds and mist engulfing the harbour with their billows of denseness as he climbs the tower with strength and agility. It's quiet up there, peaceful. The atmosphere could've fooled him if he didn't already know about the ships waiting for him to ignite the fire that signals the beginning of their attack on Fort George. Flames spark forthwith from the hearth, dancing warmly across his weary features, wild and beautiful hues of gold and red heralding the chaos that will undoubtedly shatter the serenity around the city. He stalls for a few moments, looking back at the vessels with a glimmer of incertitude dimming the confidence he had until this point. No matter, he doesn't have time to ponder over impeding hypotheses. The rumble of the cannons is his cue to jump into a leap of faith, pushing any musings to the back of his mind. Landing gracefully into the cart of hay below, he jumps out of the soft straws almost immediately. However, he doesn't exactly expect the projectile shelling the wall right beside him, knocking him down along with fragments of stone, wooden planks and barrels. The impact is strong, and he blacks out instantly. All of his senses are blurred, he can hear his heart pounding in his ears, and his head keeps spinning and spinning, a tornado of thoughts swirling around in his mind, aimless and unfocused. It's obvious enough that a concussion took its toll from the moment his skull made contact with the ground, but he tries to concentrate on the rush of blood thrumming in his veins as he opens his eyes, struggling to pick himself up. Spasmodic coughs rake through every fiber of muscle and tissue, he's out of breath, his lungs trying desperately to filter oxygen through their frail structure as he can't help but let out a deep, pained groan. He manages to shake off part of the dizziness quite fast, even though he can barely stand on his feet. Unsurprisingly, the wish, the need to bring Lee to justice, the **obsession** to kill him for the vile deeds he committed is as powerful as ever, spurring him on to chase the man to the ends of the earth. This is what keeps him going, what keeps him grounded as he growls and forces himself to find the energy to drag his body through the alleys, clinging to the walls as he drifts in and out of consciousness for no more than two seconds at a time.

 

He feels his fluttering heartbeats skyrocketing then stopping altogether, frantic then calm, his ticker suffering a major damage after that cannonball _"Need to get... inside the fort..."_

 

Stumbling into a house, he is successful in not hitting his head against the fireplace, yet he cannot prevent the stagger that makes him bump right into the corner of a wall as another cannonball makes the floorboards vibrate under his feet. The collision makes him whirl around and into a table, but he is able to maintain his balance despite the trembling in his sinews, fleetingly bracing himself against the table before hobbling further towards the open space where a door should be, but isn't. Another blast throws him out of the building with its intensity, short-circuiting his state of consciousness again.

 

He spots a gap in a stone wall nearby and he is terribly aware of how weak he is _"I am in no condition... to fight..."_ panicked synapses tingling with alarm in his nervous system _"need to stay... away from the guards..."_ but he won't stop, he won't give up, not until that bastard pays, murderous, and vengeful whispers emerging from the darkest depths of his soul **_"You want to drain him of his blood, you want to see the flicker of life leaving his eyes, you want to revel in the feeling of revenge as you watch him fight in vain to breathe with your hidden blade embedded in his neck. You are a beast, boy."_** He doesn't know why, but the voice inside his head sounds strangely familiar, almost like... like his father! Even in his own subconscious the man mocks him for his hypocrisy.

 

He squeezes through the narrow tunnel with relative ease, tottering his way in the seemingly deserted courtyard. He bristles with fury as he puts his hand on a barrel for support, snarling for the scoundrel to show his face "Where are you, Charles...?" 

 

The unexpected rich baritone coming from behind startles him "Gone." and he doesn't have enough time to react, his reflexes are incredibly feeble, his limbs damnably uncoordinated. Of course he knew he from the beginning that this might be a somewhat suicidal mission, that he might walk straight into a trap. What he didn't know was that Haytham will be the one cornering him. The first punch isn't utterly unbearable, his face has taken worse. Nonetheless, his head snaps to the side, wobbling slightly. He doesn't have the chance to react, a kick to his solar plexus hindering any movement, followed by a sharp elbow to the back. The pressure subdues him for a second as he falls flat on the ground, but he gets to his knees in a flash, punching his father right between his legs. It would've been amusing if they were in another situation, in a different context... but they aren't so he cannot allow himself to think about what could have been so he retaliates with a right hook, going for another. His fist is stopped in midair, his opponent responding with a jab to the center of his chest, blocking his air supply briefly while he evades a blow to his jaw then restrains the Templar's left arm, twisting it behind his back.

 

It's not surprising that the other man retains his characteristic bravado even in this position, arrogant words leaving his mouth, fueling the fire burning inside the Assassin "Come now, you cannot hope to match me, Connor. For all your skills, you're still but a boy - with so much left to learn." Red, pure, hot rage boils under his skin as he shoves his father forward, stabbing him with his pivot blade in the process.

 

"Give me Lee!" he roars, crouching like the wild creature both of them know he is deep inside, sneering, and waiting... waiting to pounce, and shred the flesh of his enemies.

 

Puffs of breath escape through the Grand Master's ensanguined lips, words full of conviction and... something else, stabbing Connor straight through the heart, despite the emotionless facade he puts up "Impossible. He is the promise of a better future."

 

"You ramble on and on about that god damn Order, it's all you ever cared about. You say you loved my mother, but have you ever thought, even once, about leaving the Templars? About actually being by our side, by  **my** side? After she died, I often thought about what could've been if my father would've been there to protect us, I actually imagined you were a noble, kind, and brave man. The foolishness of a child, of course. Things could've gone so differently if you were not the despicable traitor you are."

 

"And yet it seems you cannot kill me."

 

He opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out... he can't deny the fact that every time he had the chance to kill him he just couldn't find it in himself to stick to the task. His silence speaks volumes as realisation dawns on the Templar.

 

"Tell me, what made you believe that I will change my mind, our alliance or our little tryst? Were you so blinded by the sweet nothings we exchanged that night that you actually started believing we could be something other than enemies? You could not have possibly considered that they meant anything more than that, trivial words, hollow promises. How naive." 

 

He knows those words aren't true, they are only the result of many years spent worshipping the Templars, yet they still hurt so, so much. Throughout their mission his father dropped his guard enough times for him to catch a glimpse of the man's true self, he has seen his father as he truly is, gentle and caring, he has seen a part of Haytham that any moral code would state he shouldn't have, he has witnessed the flare of love directed at him so many times that he just cannot toss away the certainty he has that somewhere deep inside his father wanted things to be different. Still, he hoped that they won't reach this point of no return, yet here they are, and he feels humiliated, betrayed all over again, he is in pain, and an agonising sorrow clenches around his heart, it's so hard to keep his composure after hearing that, but he manages it somehow, voice steady as he disturbs the heavy silence "I guess it can't be helped... Enough of this petty talk. Give me Lee."

 

"Like I said, impossible. The sheep need a shepherd."

 

They are both exhausted, yet neither's going to yield, so stubborn, they are related, after all "He has been dismissed and censured. He can do nothing for you now!" he replies, venom lacing the Assassin's voice in spite of the vortex of emotions swirling inside.

 

Haytham doesn't falter, he never has and never will, all-knowing and confident, so certain of his and his Order's triumph as he ignores his heart's desire for reconciliation "A temporary setback. He will be restored." unsheathing his sword, prepared to smite it against his son's tomahawk.

 

There is no hesitation as they charge at each other, thirsty for blood. They push and they pull, they punch and they kick, they parry and they strike, snarling in each other's faces as they crash into everything that surrounds them, slashing clothes and flesh, their gory forms twirling around, kindred to a feral dance.

 

"You act as though you have some right to judge! To declare me and mine wrong for the world." Connor doesn't answer, he isn't surprised by his father's coldness and firm stance on the matter, although it contrasts radically with the covert side of him. Bipolar indeed. He cannot blame him for thinking this way... after such a long period of exposure to Templar principles it's to be expected. Thus, he keeps swinging left and right in a flurry attempt to injure his target "And yet everything I've shown you - all I've said and done - should **clearly** demonstrate otherwise!" He must remain calm, he refuses to respond to this goading, even as the other continues to speak, seemingly unleashing some kind of hidden, simmering anger "We did not harm your people! We did not support the Crown. We worked t-" Haytham doesn't get to finish that phrase because he is roughly thrown into a barrel.

 

The Templar catches his footing straightaway, attacking without even the slightest indecision. He is met halfway by Connor, the metal of their weapons clinking as they brutally encounter. As fate likes to have it, they both manage to slip in a blow, the sheer force of the contact sends them flying through the air. Neither can stand anymore, Haytham catching his breath on the ground while the Kanien'kehá:kan literally crawls towards him only the tip of his fingers managing to touch the man's leg.

 

"Surrender and I will spare you."

 

The sharp slide of the hidden blade doesn't intimidate Haytham, no, on the contrary, it encourages him as he moves to straddle the Assassin "Brave words from a man about to die." grabbing his left wrist in a vice like grip while his other hand goes around the Native's throat, tightening with every spat he mutters as the hand around Connor's wrist joins the one around his neck "Even when your kind appears to triumph ... Still we rise again. And do you know why? It is because the Order is born of a realization. We require no creed. No indoctrination by desperate old men. All we need is that the world be as it is. And **this** is why the Templars will never be destroyed!"

 

Not even a flicker of astonishment crosses Haytham's features when he feels his son's hidden blade sink into the warm tissue of his neck. Connor has the vague impression that his father knew what was coming before it even crossed the Assassin's mind. It was inevitable. The same cannot be said about Connor, the Assassin's face betraying so very evidently the shock he felt as his father's own hidden blade cut cleanly through his jugular. They only have a few moments left before they bleed to death... and... somehow... it's peaceful, the two of them together, close again, he missed this. Their eyes meet and every emotion they have ever had towards each other pours out of their nearly lifeless orbs as Haytham lifts his bloody hand to caress Connor's cheek "I will not weep and wonder what might have been. I'm sure you understand.  Still... I will forever treasure the moments we had together, you made me feel again, feelings that no father should have for his son, but feelings nonetheless. My love for you is real..." he coughs, leaning his forehead against Connor's, lips only inches apart "I am sorry it had to end this way." 

 

And so, Connor's pristine mask of impassiveness and aggression is brutally shattered for the third time in his admittedly short life, tears welling up in his eyes while grief drowns him so fast, yet so slowly, pulling him under its tide as his heavy eyelids begin to close, crystal clear liquid flowing freely down his cheeks "Raké:ni."

 

Haytham smiles, he smiles his last true smile "I... love..." cough "...you." he whispers, uniting their lips for the last time as their final breaths leave their lungs, the embrace of death enveloping them in its soothing wings.  


 

Maybe in another world his mother lived and Haytham died, maybe in another world they could've been a family, maybe in another world their love prevailed as all soulmates should, maybe, maybe, maybe, but not in this world... no...in this world they were born at the wrong when, in the wrong where, with the wrong people... in this world they were both in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

 


End file.
